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Chapter 3: The Meeting/Writing
The Mustang raced down Winchester Street and turned left onto Main Street. The people's faces blurred and the stores flew by as the engines roared. Time was ticking by slowly; only two minutes left and she's still five blocks away. She pressed down on the gas pedal and louder the engines roared. On the right, she could see the numerous places that occupied the streets. The quint shopping store, the electronics, and the measly little karate place run by a man by the name of Paul. Paul owned a small place aside the other name-brand stores. Campos Dojo read overtop the entrance. The brick walls laying on the outside held many colors; red, brown, and moss-green. The dojo was getting old just like its founder. He's almost fifty-seven, and he had a dream. His dream was to own a dojo like this with his wife. He accomplished his dream but his wife died close to the opening of the dojo; nearly twenty-three years ago. He still holds onto her memory and their daughter close. His daughter is a senior in the University of New York and is graduating with the PhD in Engineering. Paul and his wife decided to call her Bessie after the first animal they got on the farm they owned together. Nancy, Paul's wife, was a farmer's daughter who decided to go against her old man and marry who she loved yet her father hated. Live was rough for the two in the first year of marriage. They fell into a deep depression and barely made it above the poverty line. Nancy had to resort to prostitution to pay the bills. It was the fifth night that she was gone when Paul got the news; his wife was forced into submission by her payer. She was admitted into the hospital for major internal lacerations and hemorrhaging with many broken ribs. It was in that hospital visit that they learn she was pregnant with Paul's child. Seven months later, she's in labor but the injuries never fully healed. When she pushed, the fractured ribs never taken out by the doctors during the surgery punctured her lungs and then her heart. The child was delivered successfully, but Nancy loss too much blood and was pronounced dead on the spot. Paul held his newborn daughter in his hands and tears trailed down his cheeks. Twenty three years later (even though it felt like yesterday to Paul) and Bessie is on her way to the real world. She had gotten her own apartment and gotten a job working at the local GameStop. She gotten her own game system and gotten her own Gamer Tag: CamposCampingFTW. She even gotten a free trip from her father to the new park opening up, but she doesn't want to go to, in her opinion, something as childish as that. Horns honked as Kelly nearly drifted into the next lane; she must have spaced out when she saw the old dojo. She swerved to miss the car and drove back into her own lane and continued down. She had less than a minute to get to the meeting and she was still two blocks away. She pushed the gas pedal down more and the engine roared louder. The Mustang raced down the barren street with easy and drifted around the corner swiftly and then another. She pulled back on the gas and entered the parking spot on the right. She got out, grabbed her stuff, and ran to the door. As she opened it, she heard the familiar screech of the F150 against the pavement. The president was having a hard day. He was forced to file multiple paper works to prevent lawsuit and insurance frauds on Mr. James Burleson. James was an honest man despite all of the rumors of his frauds. He has a loving family six feet under the ground, a below minimum wage paying job, and a rundown shitty shack with the walls lined with eviction notices he can return to late at night. What else could James ask for? The door of the F150 opened up and out stepped a polished black shoe and a tan pant leg. Another set followed and the red dress shirt made the last appearance. Above the shirt was the face of a scraggly looking man. He rose his dirtied and stained hand and placed it on the car door. He pushed it closed and looked over at the entrance; he smiled when he saw Kelly. He took a wobbly step forward then another. "Ms. Powell, is it?" The man asked and she nodded. "My name is James A. Burleson, ma'am. I was sent in the place of the president to talk with you about my vacation." He hopped up on the curb and took off the dusty cap he had on his head. He held it close to his body, allowing the sun bounce off of the hairless patches he had. "Ah, welcome, Mr. Burleson. Come, we have lots to talk about." She responded without looking at the man behind her. He sighed to himself and followed her inside the restaurant. The sign on the right, for the best James could comprehend, read "Seat Yourself"; he stood at the entrance and waited for one of the employees before Kelly lightly (and with a tissue) grabbed his shoulder and pulled him over to the table she grabbed. She sat him down and then sat herself. "Mr. Burleson, could tell me what happened to you that day when you got injured? Please?" Kelly asked politely as she placed the white napkin on her lap. James stared at her before nodding. He cleared his throat and spoke. "Well, for what I can remember, and how they described it, I was mining like I usually was. Then I got a call from my friend in the main office, so I took a break to answer the phone. 'Stop and come home,' he said, 'there will be something happening that will hurt you,' he said," he cleared his throat again, beginning to sweat. "Ah, Miss, can you understand what I'm saying? You see, I was never schooled and I only know to speak from the other miners. They are great fellows; they taught me everything I know." "Don't worry, sir, I can understand you very well." She said softly as she gently bit her tongue. She was right when she thought he didn't go to school. Someone so unkempt as him definitely couldn't go to school; there she goes basing everything she thinks on stereotypes. "Ah, good. Alright, so I ignored his warning. I went back down the tunnel and started picking the walls of the tunnel for this big train-connector-thing. I haven't learned the word for that yet," he said with a laugh. He lightly reached over to tap her shoulder but she moved back quickly. "What's wrong, miss? Don't like being touched? I'm sorry, I won't try it again. Back to how I got this nasty lump on my head. I didn't learn the other guys as this large piece of rock, I don't know what type of rock it was, came down and got me good on my noggin. They aren't 'llowing me back into the tunnel 'til I get better, or 'til Wednesday." "Wait, when did this happen? It seems rather early to allow you back in two days," Kelly started but her words trailed off. "Oh, I'm sorry. It happened last Thursday. They are just 'llowing me out of my bed today as the president is busy with my paperwork still. He was on a trip that Thursday to Sunday, so he just got the papers today," he said. He looked down to floor then back up at her. "What was I working on? I mean, that train-connector-thing." "I think," she started then stopped. She gathered her thoughts then continued, "I think it was for my park. It's called a monorail, and it's definitely like a train. If I knew it'd hurt you, I wouldn't have asked to have it built. I'm so sorry." Tears gathered in her eyes but she wiped them quickly. She stood up and smiled. "Well, it was nice to have this cup of coffee with you." She said and picked up the empty cup and put her lips against it. She pretended to drink and then set it down. "Now let's go, I wanna buy you something for your troubles." "Oh, ma'am, you must not. I don't need anything more than being able to get back into the tunnels," he said and reassured her with a smile. She shook her head and lead him out of the restaurant. They continued to the right and entered the store. Back at the restaurant, a man who sat at the table next to the two shook his head and jotted down notes inside his small yellow pocket notebook. "Possible interview with one James Burleson on Monday the 10th of March in the year 2014. Quickly interrupted by interviewer pulling the other out of the restaurant before buying anything," he said aloud and continued, "Ms. Powell is possibly buying out Mr. Burleson so she doesn't have to give him free admission to the park that is opening up tomorrow. By, of course, I, Leonard Bost." He looked around and saw a group of young adults being thrown out. He stood up and followed them. He reached the door way when he saw the previous two leaving the electronic store. He followed them around the corner to the Mega-Mart just past the dojo. This was going to be the biggest break of his life; if he could get the scoop, that is.